Always in Our Hearts
by ChoCedric
Summary: AU. Sadness and despair shook the crowd as they sat at the funeral of Harry Potter, who had been defeated by Voldemort. What can anyone say or do in this time of grief, loss, and tragedy? What hope is there for a world that now seems doomed? Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: Another old fic of mine which I felt needed major editing. Please let me know what you think!

Always in Our Hearts

By: ChoCedric

Harry's still form lay on a marble table. People crowded around it, with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the rest of the Weasleys nearest it. Harry did not look peaceful at all. His eyes were now closed, but deep in everyone's souls were the memory of them wide open, staring lifelessly up at the sky. He still had a terrified and apologetic look on his face. His hands were at his sides, and they were so cold and limp.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny couldn't help remembering with sickening clarity the events that had led them to this moment. They recalled in vivid detail how Voldemort and the Death Eaters had invaded the castle grounds, and how Harry and Voldemort had fought a battle to the death. Voldemort had been strong, but Harry, only a seventeen-year-old wizard with not as many spells in his arsenal, had been rather tired and had weakened more and more as the fight went on. But he had tried his best, and going up against a wizard with Voldemort's power was a horribly difficult thing to do.

Tears streamed down Ginny's face as she remembered how her beloved boyfriend had fought with everything he had in him, defiant to the very end. Voldemort had finally hit him with an expelliarmus, and he'd been forced to his knees. His friends and the Order members had tried desperately to get to him, but Voldemort had erected some kind of barrier that held them back. They'd watched in horror as the green light of the Avada Kedavra blasted out of Voldemort's wand and hit Harry. He'd collapsed, simply crumpled to the ground, lifeless. Voldemort and his followers had celebrated, with shrieks, sobs, and tears from those fighters of the light. Then the entourage of dark wizards had disappeared.

Now, Harry's funeral was upon everyone. It was taking place on the grounds of Hogwarts, and Harry's friends and mentors were inconsolable. Albus Dumbledore looked grimmer than he ever had in his entire life, and Ginny had screamed and sobbed ever since she saw her love's blank eyes staring into nothingness. People were yelling and calling Harry the Boy Who Failed; this was his new name. Harry's true supporters felt ill with anger at this; Harry had tried his hardest, and how could the entire wizarding world pin their hopes upon a seventeen-year-old boy, prophecy or no? He was only a child, facing the world's worst demon ever known.

Still weeping, Ginny touched Harry's hand, and it broke her to touch it. Her boyfriend had been so full of life, playing Quidditch and exuding joy. He'd had hope for the future, even though the odds had been so highly stacked against him. His green eyes had always been shining with it, but now they were closed forever. Ginny wished with everything she had in her that her lover's hand would grow warm again, that they'd spend another night together in the Astronomy Tower kissing, hugging, and talking about the future. She stroked Harry's face, running her hands through his messy hair. This was too much for her to take. She had only been able to watch helplessly as he was brutally murdered in front of the entire school.

Ron stood clasping Ginny's other hand, his expression stony. Ever since his best friend had died, he'd become a bitter young man, snapping at anyone who talked to him, even his girlfriend, Hermione. But she knew the pain he was going through, for she was feeling it too. So she stayed loyal to him throughout, sobbing out her own grief on his shoulder.

Ginny squeezed Harry's hand even harder, unable to comprehend that now the world was going to be ruled by evil. The only light in their world had left them, and the light of Ginny's life.

Other people were now stroking Harry's hands and face, including Mrs. Weasley, who almost collapsed to her knees, buckling under the weight of her grief. She'd loved Harry like a son. She had been at Hogwarts when the battle had taken place; she'd seen who was the victor with her very own eyes. "I'm so sorry, sweetie," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry we couldn't do more for you. Oh honey, this isn't fair!"

"I can't bear to do this anymore," cried Ginny, angrily wrenching her hand out of Harry's still one and backing up a few steps. "Come on, let's sit down."

So she, Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasleys went to sit down. They were sickened by all the Ministry people who had shown up at the funeral only to curse Harry's name and label him as the failure they all thought he was.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Albus Dumbledore's sad voice broke through the stricken yells and sobs of the crowd. "We are here to celebrate the life of Harry James Potter, a wonderful young man who brought joy into our world."

"Only to fail us!" someone spat from somewhere among the rows and rows of people.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, looking somberly at everyone. "First and foremost," he said, "we must remember that Harry Potter was a boy, a young boy who tried his best to help our world."

"Well, he didn't try hard enough, did he?" a woman shrieked through her sobs. "We're doomed, doomed!"

Dumbledore just shook his head and ignored her. He continued to talk about what a wonderful person Harry was and all the adventures he'd had at Hogwarts. He talked about how he'd always tried to smile, even though he'd had things go against him so often. "It was a pleasure to teach him," Dumbledore said, his own grief breaking through. In his heart, he knew he was the one who'd failed. He'd tried to teach Harry spells he could use to defeat Voldemort, but the attack had come by surprise, and the boy wasn't ready. But Dumbledore had desperately wanted to give him a childhood, to let him soar on his broomstick and play Quidditch and have friends and a girlfriend. At least he had the luxury of those things before he had to go, he thought sadly. And at least he's with his parents now. Lily and James must be so proud of him.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny kept their arms around each other as many Ministry workers got up to express their sympathies at Harry's loss. Ron jumped out of his seat a few times, preparing to go and punch the living daylights out of those uncaring, simpering fools, only to have Hermione hold him back. They hadn't known Harry at all, they only cared because he was the Boy Who Lived, and now the Boy Who Failed.

Hermione, quivering and shaking with tears, got up to speak after a hymn was sung. "My best friend was Harry Potter," she said. "And I would just like to stress to you all that under the circumstances, Harry did the best he could. He always had hope for the future, and we must, in turn, keep Harry's spirit and memory alive by having hope as well. We mustn't give up the fight just because he's gone. We mustn't let Voldemort take over our world." At this, there was an uproar from the crowd, and many gasped at the use of the Dark Lord's name, especially at such a time.

"And we mustn't be afraid of a name," Hermione continued seriously. "But I just want to let you know, Harry, wherever you are, that you're always in our hearts, and we'll never forget you. We hope you're at peace now with Sirius and your parents. You deserve a happy family. Goodbye, my friend." More tears pouring down her face, she got off the podium and went back to her seat. As she'd been talking, she'd looked straight at Harry's body, imagining his mesmerizing green eyes looking down at her with happiness and hope. Ginny was remembering the same eyes, shining with love for her, and his gentle lips pressing down on to hers. Harry had been her soulmate, and a part of her had died when the green light had hit him and harry fell.

After the funeral was over, Ron, Mr. Weasley, Bill, Neville, and a very serious-looking Fred and George carried Harry's casket, which was closed now. It had been heartbreaking to take a last look at him; it was the last anyone would ever see of him.

Everyone apparated to the cemetery in Godric's Hollow. Harry would be buried with his parents, so he was truly near them. The grave diggers had already dug a hole, and with broken hearts, everyone watched as Harry's casket was lowered into it.

Sobs punctuated the air, and then suddenly, a high, cold voice seemed to echo around the cemetery. Nobody could see anyone, but they knew the demon known as Tom Riddle, or Lord Voldemort, was near.

"You have two days. Two days of peace before my Death Eaters and I strike. Two days before the Dark Reign begins. Bury your savior and put him to rest, and then forget about him. We are coming. Anyone who continues to fight shall be desecrated and slaughtered. We are warning you now, you have two days."

Howls of loss and despair rent the air as dirt was tossed onto Harry's grave, leaving the wizarding world's last hope to rest in peace with his parents forever. Life without Harry Potter would be the hardest thing that anyone would ever have to face. The Dark Reign was about to begin, and there was absolutely nothing anyone could do about it. 


End file.
